Another day, another discussion about media where I find
myself mildly dismayed by the creative implications of someone’s choices, or
lack of thought about said choices. Now, it’s always easy to Monday Morning
quarterback things, and god knows there’s no need for the literary equivalent
of Cinema Sins. We had that in the early 2010s, it was on blogs and Goodreads,
and frankly, I’d rather leave the trend of gleeful dunking and fake outrage in
its grave, where it belongs.
But that said, once in a while, I stumble across a piece of
information so hard to comprehend that I’m staggered by it. Often, it’s related
to a particularly stupid bit of worldbuilding that, say, a world-famous
billionaire author who wrote children’s books did. Just as an example.
As I was discussing some particularly nonsensical creative
decisions with some friends and colleagues, however, I had an absolutely
staggering realisation about JK Rowling – one that applies more broadly, in
fact.
Being creative, and good at creating things, can coexist
with absolute stupidity.
A defining of terms
Some people are going to read the title of this and fire off
an angry post anyway, but lend me a few moments’ indulgence before that
happens.
I should probably explain what the hell I mean. I’m not
talking about the fake, racist metrics of IQ tests. Developmental delays and
birth differences are entirely unrelated to these skills, although they
sometimes have an impact on their development.
Stupidity and smartness are actually rather nebulous concepts
in English, but here, stupidity refers to a mixture of willful ignorance and
stubbornness leading to overlooking things.
In contrast, the particular type of smartness people expect
from artists is critical thought, both analytical and creative; in particular,
the ability to contextualise fiction and reality.
What’s that mean?
The ability to contextualise fiction and reality can keep
you from, say, writing a cozy, sweet book about a magic school with elements
based on real-life cultural genocide, for instance.
Stupidity can make you say “but mine’s different!” even when
thousands of people are begging you to understand that no, your portrayal of a
particular character type isn’t different or subversive enough to avoid ableist
harms.
At least in the English-speaking parts of the internet I’ve
seen – there’s a cultural idea that being able to make stuff automatically
bestows other forms of intelligence. (I blame European colonizers for this.)
But…doesn’t artistic skill make you a genius?
Things like the Masterclass program and TED Talks are
particularly pernicious for spreading the idea that people who can make stuff
are superior in some way. We often use the term “gifted” for creatives. The
problem is, this leads people to the idea that skills in one or two areas
indicate skills in all areas or most areas. Sure, people *say* “you can’t be
good at everything”, but we sure as shit act surprised when someone famously
talented turns out to be skilled at one thing and terrible at another.
The truth is, the ability to create something isn’t the same
as the ability to understand either the act of creation itself or the context
of that creation. Analysing your own work is a pain in the ass, as anyone who’s
ever had to write either a grant or an artist’s statement will tell you. Part
of the problem is that it’s really hard to have perspective on your own work,
but the other part is, a lot of people have a drive to create that they
struggle to explain.
Now, I need to underline that I don’t want to demean people
who struggle with the analysis and critical thinking part of creation. Everyone
can’t be good at everything, and as the world of media critics shows, there are
plenty of people who can analyse things brilliantly and can’t make things worth
shit. There are others still who can
teach and relay skills very well, even when they struggle to apply their own
skills. And still others are brilliant at applying creative skills, but can’t
communicate their methods to others.
Why bring this up now?
As I look around and try to cope with the rising tide of fascism,
I see a lot of people, myself included, searching for leadership and hope. One
of the first places we turn to tends to be those we admire. A lot of people we
admire tend to be skilled in multiple areas of creation and the arts – say,
Brennan Lee Mulligan, who’s a very good performer, storyteller, and roleplayer,
among other things; and who is something of an online darling right now.
Don’t get me wrong; I think he’s great, but I’ve also seen
the rise and fall of creative figures before, and it’s really getting to me.
Lin Manuel Miranda and Hank and John Green were similarly lionized in the 2010s,
and when they made even the mildest of human missteps, or even just did things
that a few people disliked, it was enough to dislodge them from their
pedestals.
So what’s going on there? Next week, I’m going to talk about
the painfully human nature of people we admire – and why we, the
English-speaking internet citizens, need to absolutely chill the fuck out with
our standards.
***
A writer and artist, Michelle Browne lives in southern AB
with xer family and their cats. Xe is currently working on the next books in
her series, knitting, jewelry-making, and drinking as much tea as humanly
possible. Find xer all over the internet: *Website * Amazon * Substack * Patreon * Ko-fi * Instagram * Bluesky
* Mastodon * Tumblr * Medium * OG Blog * Facebook
No comments:
Post a Comment
As always, be excellent unto others, and don't be a dick.